“So the answer is yes. What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”
“You father is the cause of your misery, remember?” he hints as if it’s not at all his idea.
“But you were the one who took me, and now his debt is repaid,” I say. “So you agreed to all of it.”
“Correct … as long as you remain mine, of course. Otherwise, the debt remains, and he will pay for that with his life,” he replies as if murdering my father is not at all a big thing.
“You’d really kill him?” I sneer.
He narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t respond. Typical. Talkative when I don’t care, and completely silent when I need answers. I take a deep breath and ask my next question. “You have an unhealthy obsession with my family, don’t you?”
I don’t think this was a random deal. He must’ve known about my father’s financial trouble, and he jumped in like a shark sniffing blood.
“Very smart, princess,” he says, cocking his head.
“Stop calling me that,” I spit. Constantly belittling me probably makes him feel powerful, bigger than he really is. But nothing he says can bring me down. Nothing. I won’t let it happen.
His brow lifts as if he’s amused by my outburst. “What? Spoiled little princess?”
I make a face. He thinks he knows me? “That’s not who I am. At all.”
He’s wrong. Dead wrong. And I will prove it when I escape his grasp and beat him at his own game.
“You don’t even know how lucky you are, how lucky you have been all your life,” he hisses. “But you’ll learn soon enough.” The seat belt sign illuminates above our heads, and he immediately moves into action. “Now buckle up, princess. We’re about to land.”
Chapter 6
Charlotte
1 Year Ago
After that painful dinner at my father’s house, I didn’t wanna go home and end the night crying my eyes out while watching Netflix and chugging down a whole bottle of wine, so instead, I got a cab and went out. The city lights have always managed to lift my mood. Besides, I could use a drink, and plenty of places have amazing cocktails.
Not only that, but I heard about a new place up ahead called Dutch Deviants. I’ve never been there before, but a lot of people are talking about it. It’s the place to be, I’ve heard, so I’m eager to see what’s happening.
When the cabbie drops me off, I open my purse and reapply my lipstick before going inside. It looks so luxurious with all the gold shimmer on the tables and walls, and the soft purple mesh hanging throughout the room, making it look like a sultan’s throne room. Not a lot of people are dancing; most of them are lounging on one of the many black couches and comfy-looking seats. I guess this place is more for relaxing and less about the loud music, which is a plus to me.
I go to the bar area and check their cocktail menu. The extensive list has a lot of weird combinations, like vodka and lime with a hint of rose petals or apple juice and Turkish fruit mixed with gin.
“I’d go for the Lotus Heaven.”
I turn my head and am pleasantly surprised by the familiar blue eyes staring back at me.
“Easton,” I mutter. In shock, I stare at his beautiful face, which hasn’t changed in years. Still the short, wavy dark hair, chin cleft, and thick, kissable lips. God, did I always mumble like this in front of him?
He reaches for me, and for a second there, I question whether he’s going to grab me and kiss me right then. Instead, he grabs the menu and holds it up in front of me, sliding his finger down toward the description of the Lotus Dream.
“Lotus flower and almonds mixed with rum,” he says. “An exquisite taste, if I say so myself.”
The charming smile that forms on his lips makes my heart flutter. “I can’t believe it.”
“What? The Lotus flower?”
“No … well, that too,” I stammer, “but more the fact that you’re—”
He places a finger on my lips, and says, “No need to explain.” He smiles again, this time with an obvious arrogance. “I must say I’m … pleasantly surprised to find you here.”
My cheeks flush, and I lower my eyes. I can’t even look at him without turning into a puddle of goo. What’s wrong with me? He never used to have this effect on me, right? Or maybe I just denied it.
He flicks his fingers at the bartender, and says, “Lotus Dream. Two. On the house.”
My lips part, but I don’t know quite what to say, especially when he winks.
“You look stunning,” he muses. Grabbing the drinks off the counter, he hands one to me. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” I say, a bit flabbergasted.